


Regret

by prittyspeshul



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Drabble, M/M, introspective, past ambrollins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:05:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prittyspeshul/pseuds/prittyspeshul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done.</p><p>"Dean didn't regret things. Not ever. Not really."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret

Dean didn’t regret things. Not ever. Not really. It helped him live with the choices he’d had to make when he was younger; it helped him live with the scars that wound like topography and autographs on his back; it helped him live with other people; most of all, it helped him live with himself. He came to understand early that most other people did regret things: cigarettes, too many drinks, one night stands. Eventually, inevitably, everyone came to regret him; because, after all, he was pieced out of other people’s regrets. And so he learned that nobody ever stayed, and he was fine with that, because then he never had to worry about making room for the regrets of other people.

But then his world was flipped upside down and shaken sideways, because there were two people who were just there, all of a sudden, and wouldn’t leave. One was sharp angles, hipbones, elbows, shoulders; he dug in, sunk into Dean’s skin and even deeper, until he was carving his name on _his_ bones, and they were both making promises he knew at least he wouldn’t, couldn’t keep. Seth was a raging wildfire, a bottle rocket, a Molotov cocktail, and all along Dean knew he didn’t hold the fuse; he was consuming passion and desperate codependence, and it went too, too deep, too, too fast, but still he was swept up and managed to gulp gasps of air between drowning plunges. He knew it was unsustainable; he knew, he knew, he knew, and one day when he looked at Seth he recognized the familiar resignation, the slow crawl behind the eyes, and he almost relaxed because finally, this was something he knew how to handle. Seth’s momentarily stalled meteor had finally kickstarted again, and he was looking at Dean askance, with eyes that read pity and regret; and for a while, Dean didn’t have to worry about his choices anymore. Because, of course, he didn’t regret a thing.

But, and there was always a but, wasn’t there, there was still the other person, the other one who had been there all along, and who was still there, and who still wouldn’t leave. He was soft curves, soft tanned curves of muscle and sinew and power, and he didn’t dig, didn’t grasp, didn’t claw; he just stayed, right there, and kept his mouth shut, until Dean couldn’t stop talking. Roman was reaching hands in the middle of the night, fingers tangled into the mesh of sleeping shorts that meant _comfort_ and _home_ , waking up nestled under a bronzed arm that smelled like sunshine; he was protection and friendship and fierce devotion. Roman was an ice bath, shivering splashes of reality, and he was tender fingers coasting over scars and apologizing with the pressure of kisses until tears leaked from his eyes, warm, soothing comfort; he was everything that had been missing, and for the first time in his life Dean found himself terrified that someone was going to leave, because of course he was, and it was just a matter of when. Every day, Dean would take Roman’s head in his hands and stare into his eyes, searching for that which he feared, and every day, he wouldn’t find it, and something like a hard knot in his chest would release a little bit more, because maybe this was bearable.

And, tangled into tanned legs and arms, coiled up in the warmth of lion sleepy softness and damp dark hair, for the first time in his life, Dean didn’t regret a single step that had brought him to this moment.


End file.
